


Formidable

by mickyy



Series: oh how things have changed [5]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: BAMF Annabeth Chase, Dark Annabeth Chase, Gen, Post-Tartarus (Percy Jackson), Swordfighting, coping with some SHIT™, is this dark Annabeth??? i think it is, someone help this poor murder baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23089672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickyy/pseuds/mickyy
Summary: Annabeth Chase is coping.
Series: oh how things have changed [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1585741
Comments: 3
Kudos: 142





	Formidable

Her heart was pounding in her ears. _Slash, jab, parry, stab_. At one point, her opponent caught her sword arm and held it in place, so she dropped her weapon, caught it in her other hand, and kept fighting. _Slow down_ , she told herself, _this is Camp, you’re safe. This isn’t a fight for your life_. But it was hard to remember that when the sword came down, nearly relieving her of her head. 

She couldn’t see her opponent anymore. She could only see Akhlys, her half skull, half zombie face grinning at her as if to say, “I’ll get you soon enough.” She saw Ethan Nakamura, dead-set on killing Percy and proving himself to Kronos. She saw the manticore, Dr. Thorn, preparing to kill her and the two children of Hades behind her. She saw every monster she’d killed in Tartarus, come to get their revenge. And worst of all, she saw Percy, his eyes dark with rage and vengeance, scowl more frightening than even Medusa could be. Riptide was glowing in his hand, pulsing like it was egging him on, like it wouldn’t rest until it had bathed in her blood. 

Annabeth’s breathing grew ragged and her fighting became more desperate. Now, desperate does not mean sloppy—one thing everybody at Camp Half-Blood knew was that Annabeth Chase was _never_ sloppy with a blade. She lashed out and she hit her target, but the one she saw and the one she hit were two different targets. Clarisse let out a cry and dropped her sword. “Chase!”

The shout shook Annabeth from her…what was it? An episode? A lapse? She noted the nasty looking gash running up Clarisse’s arm and took in a shaky breath. “Oh gods. _Di immortales_. I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” she fretted, pulling out her emergency baggy of ambrosia. “Are you okay? I didn’t—“

“Gods, Chase, you sound like my mother,” Clarisse joked gruffly, if only to reassure her. “Gimme ambrosia and I’ll be good as new.” She took the ambrosia and nodded to Annabeth. “You’re formidable.”

Annabeth nodded distractedly. She _was_ formidable, and right now, that was the problem.


End file.
